


Homecoming

by occasionalfics



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies), Thor Ragnarok - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-21 19:50:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17049497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/occasionalfics/pseuds/occasionalfics
Summary: Sif is the last of Thor's old friends, and he hasn't heard from her in a while. But that's about to change.





	1. The Party

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted @ occasionalfics.tumblr.com in April 2018, as a request
> 
> Original notes: So I can’t remember the last time I really saw Sif in the MCU outside of Agents of Shield and I’ve been trying to play around with the idea that she’s just been on Midgard the whole time doing…god knows what? And I went with that here. I didn’t end up getting to smut but if I had, this would’ve been SO. LONG. And I’m trying to work on getting to the point of things and not meandering too much. Either way, I legit love Sif and would 100% write more for her, both with Thor and with a Reader. Just…for reference.

When Asgard made its way to Midgard, Thor thought _I have lost everything_. But he hadn’t. He had a kingdom, his brother, his friends…all except the four he’d left on Asgard when his father had banished him all those years ago.

Three of those friends were dead. He missed Hogun’s advice and guidance, the contemplative stares as he observed all he saw. Thor missed Fandral’s flirtatious attitude and the resilience with which he fought. And he missed Volstagg’s booming laughter and the fearlessness he brought to every battle. He missed his friends, who he couldn’t protect from his own sister.

But there was still one. He hadn’t seen Lady Sif in so long - he couldn’t remember the last time. It was probably when he’d brought Jane to Asgard, and he barely spent any time with Sif then. He regretted it now, since their friends were gone and he had no idea where she was.

When everything had settled and his people were taken care of, he felt comfortable going to Heimdall for assistance. Heimdall found her in no time, as Thor expected. She was in New Mexico, not far from the town he’d had fallen into years ago. So close to Jane Foster, though he knew she had moved on with her life. He didn’t blame her, didn’t harbor any anger or detestation. He was a different person than he’d been since the last time he’d seen either of them. He could only expect as much from both Jane and Lady Sif.

He needed an excuse to call her to New York, other than needing her friendship. Heimdall said she was doing important work, but not exactly what work. She would come for very few reasons, so he picked the best one he could.

“You want me to fund a homecoming party?” Tony asked upon his proposal.

He didn’t say it was really meant to bring Sif home. Or rather, to introduce her to their new home, should she wish to return to Asgard. Still, he begged Tony to help him, and eventually, he did. They planned a grand ball and sent an invitation - by USPS, rather than a raven (in Tony’s words) - to the address Sif had given to Heimdall.

He was nervous the whole night, though he couldn’t say why. Sif was his friend. They’d fought together, celebrated together, learned and grown together. She was his peer, and one of the only people as skilled in battle as he or Brunhilde. He knew her well, and yet, he was anxiously awaiting her arrival. Hilde kept laughing at him, giving him her usual smirk as if she knew something he didn’t and wasn’t about to share the information. Her wink told him she thought it was more fun to watch him suffer.

He was the only one to notice when she did arrive. His Avenger friends didn’t know her, and his Asgardian subjects were too far into their celebration to notice. But he did.

She looked _spectacular_ , and she was wearing his colors. Her dress was red, her shoes were gold, and her earrings were blue. She towered over most of the people she passed, and her face was a stoic portrait of all the things he remembered of Asgard - the place. Grace, strength, capability.

He enthusiastically made his way to her, calling her name above the din of conversation and music, desperately trying to catch her attention. Her sharp features turned up into a pleasant smile when she found him, and as they neared one another, he held his arms out. She called his name, and he felt something stir in him that he hadn’t felt in some time. He’d later call it attraction, although that felt too shallow.

He moved to embrace her, but she stepped back half an inch and bowed instead. “It’s quite an honor to see you, my King,” she said, always the formal soldier.

He rolled his eyes and waited until she stood at her full height, nearly taller than he was in her heels. “No need for such formalities,” he told her. He couldn’t name the lightness in his chest when her eyes met his again because he’d never felt it with her before. But she was his dearly missed friend. She was one of his last reminders of home, the last of their group to survive Hela. That had to be the cause of the feeling, certainly.

“Of course there’s a need,” she said, her lips turning up into a smirk. “You are King now.”

He shrugged. “Kind of,” he said.

Her brows turned up in the middle, though her expression lost none of its playfulness. They stared at one another for too long before she tore her gaze from his and looked around the room. Stark had done a good job - or rather, his party planner had done a good job at transforming the recreational space of the compound into a ballroom. They’d even managed to fit the Valknut into some of the bannisters, creating a sense that this new place _was_ home, no matter what it looked like.

“I’m afraid I’ve missed a lot,” Sif said, her dark hair falling over her shoulders like Thor had never noticed before.

His smile fell, but hers did not. He hesitated, unsure of what to say. Sif had been gone from his life for so long that he couldn’t remember where to start. What had she missed, exactly? The end of the world as they knew it. His sister, his being stuck on Sakaar with Loki and Hulk, his raising Surtur to save Asgard, despite destroying it, too. He wondered what her response to such an explanation would be.

Sif had always been one of his group to question the motives of Loki. That seemed so out of place until Thor thought about Loki’s moral compass. She was usually right in that case, and she was always focused on justice and the right way of doing things. She was a perfect warrior and a friend that Thor was grateful to have back…and still, there was something more, but he couldn’t touch it.

So he simply said, “Welcome home,” because he had nothing else.

She stared at him until her expression dropped, then she looked around and surveyed the guests at the ball. He figured she was beginning to recognize some of the people. She turned in a circle, then came back to him and asked, “What’re they all doing here?”

“Same as you,” he said, slowly turning so he stood next to her. He bent his arm so she had room to wrap hers around his, and she did, though a tad reluctantly. “They’re here to celebrate.”

“But…everyone?” she asked as he lead her across the room.

Thor nodded and looked toward the floor. “Like you said, you’ve missed quite a lot, Lady Sif.”

She looked around again as he continued toward the bar. She would need a drink if he was going to tell her the whole story all at once - and he would, too, honestly. He wasn’t nervous anymore; he felt calm, actually. It was the idea of reliving everything that had happened since Surtur had captured him that put him on edge, but he did it. He owed it to Sif, who’d lost just as much as he had and didn’t even know it.

She listened with her usual level of focus. Her eyes never left his, even as he told her what Hela did to the Warriors 3. When he finished telling her everything, she sighed and reached for his forearm. His skin tingled under her touch, and for the first time, he thought to himself of how really beautiful she was.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help,” she said, her dark curtain of hair falling over one shoulder. “I should have-”

“No,” he said, moving past the confusing thoughts in his head about her cheekbones. “You would’ve faced the same fate.”

“But I could’ve fought. I could’ve made her work difficult, or tried to help Heimdall or-”

Thor shook his head. “She took them all without blinking.” He pulled his arm from her, only to grip her fingers in his palm. It was odd to be holding her hand like that, but it didn’t feel wrong. He thought he saw a similar reaction in her eyes. “I’m glad you’re still alive.”

She was silent, trying to read him, but he had a hard enough time understanding what was happening inside him. Sif was his friend, and had been most of his life. He’d never felt like this for her before, and he wondered how much of it had to do with the fact that she was the last of his group alive. But something inside him said no, these feelings were genuine. The little skip in his heart when she’d smiled at him, the trembling of his skin under her touch, it was all _real_ , not just a side effect of their situation. He had to trust his instincts on this.

“This is a celebraiton, though,” he told her, gesturing to the party with his free hand. “We’re meant to partake in revelry.”

She sighed and slunk into her smirk again. “As usual,” she said. “Where’s Loki? Revelry is never truly had until he’s involved.”

Thor chuckled because she was right. When they were much younger, Loki was the one that brought the fun with him. The real fun, the mischievous fun. He wished that were still true, but in the meantime, he shrugged and stood from his barstool, refusing to let her hand go until she pulled it away. She didn’t, and he couldn’t help but notice. “Dance with me,” he said, half a question and half a suggestion.

He thought he saw her blush, but she’d always been good at hiding such reactions. “Thor,” she said as she shook her head gently. “You know I’m more skilled with a sword than these _awful_ shoes.”

“And _you_ know I’m good with both,” he responded, stepping back so that she had to stand from her own stool. He was reminded of how long she was - everything about her was elongated and elegant in a way he’d never took the time to record for himself before. But now he did as he backed up once again, pulling her into the crowd of people, both Asgardian and Midgardian.

Sif put up no walls, no fight whatsoever. He wondered if she was obliging because he was king, but he knew her better than that. Even if she never showed disobedience to Odin’s face, he knew how cunning and creative she was behind his back. She did things the way she wanted to, even if his father didn’t know or like it. Besides, she was his friend _before_ his subject, even if he couldn’t say as much.

He brought her to the dancefloor and led her through a Midgardian ballroom technique, though she seemed to know how to do her part easily enough. He didn’t know exactly how long Sif had been here, but it was long enough to wear the clothing, know the dances, and have a particular favorite drink to order. He’d be impressed if he didn’t know how capable Sif was of…just about anything she did.

As the songs changed, Thor leaned closer to Sif. She didn’t move back, but her face became serious all at once. “You look beautiful, Lady Sif,” he said, as it was the only thing on his mind.

She forced a smile, but he could actually see her cheeks flush this time. Her smile was for him, but her body had another reaction entirely.

“You know, in the,” she paused to think, raising an eyebrow, “Milennia or so we’ve known one another, you’ve never said such a thing to me.” Her smile returned, though it was more of a smirk as she teased him. When he didn’t respond with an explanation - other than a slight shrug - she continued with, “But I am flattered, and I must say that this eyepatch look is really…quite something.”

He rolled his eye, but they laughed in sync anyway. They danced and joked and fell into a comfortable rhythm, as if nothing had passed between them but time. After a while, Thor believed that nothing had. The feelings he had for Sif didn’t feel new anymore, just refreshing. She was a piece of home returned to him, and in some way, he had always loved her. If his feelings shifted now into a different form of love, he would follow them because he’d already denied himself happiness enough for three lifetimes. Maybe he was getting ahead of himself, but he didn’t care. They danced until she couldn’t stand her awful shoes anymore, then they went and found a quiet hallway, still laughing as if they weren’t the only two left of their little gang.

They sat along the wall, their legs stretched out in front of them. Thor had to stop himself from reaching for Sif’s hand, reminding himself that he didn’t _have_ her yet. He wanted her more than he could ever remember wanting her before, but he didn’t have her. She’d come into New York from across the country, and she was likely going back soon after the party. He didn’t want her to, now that he was close to her again. He needed her skill to keep Asgard safe, but more than that, he wanted her company. Her companionship. Her lovely smile and intelligent, serious eyes.

“I know Heimdall said you were doing important work out West,” he said, his voice low but still echoing off the metal walls. “But would you consider staying here? To help resettle Asgard?” _For me?_ he wanted to ask, but he kept that to himself.

She sighed and looked at the slit in her skirt, and he fought not to follow her gaze. “I don’t know,” she whispered. “It’s hard to imagine everyone…here…after everything, you know?”

He nodded, unable to stop his hand from moving toward hers and keep his gaze on her face at the same time. He wanted connection between them. He wanted something - anything. If she looked at him, he could breathe again. He forced himself to say, “We need you.”

They both knew she had a duty to Asgard, but she was a determined woman. If she was expected to finish her job in New Mexico, she would. Maybe she would come back to New York after. He didn’t know where else she was supposed to be, but he did know that he wanted her with him. He couldn’t get the idea out of his head. She was suddenly inescapable, a part of his destiny that finally felt like light, rather endless darkness.

He sighed and told her, “I need you, Sif.”

Slowly - _so slowly_ \- she turned to look at him again, her expression unreadable. If he had to guess, he’d say she looked shocked, but there was something else in her eyes that made him second guess his assessment. Maybe fear, maybe hope.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you all night,” he told her before he could stop himself. “And it’s not simply because of the distance and time and whatever else was between us. My gut is telling me that I really, truly want to kiss you.”

“Thor, I-” she started, but she didn’t continue. She didn’t look away from him or stand up and leave, either. She bit her lip, looking much more like the young maiden she’d once been than the warrior Thor knew her to be. He was baffled that she could be both, but she could. If anyone could, it was Lady Sif.

He finally allowed himself to reach for her hand. She didn’t pull away or show any sign of discomfort or repulsion. This he could do without her express permission, but he needed her word to kiss her. He was her king, but he wouldn’t use that to get what he wanted. He wanted Sif on her terms, as his friend and companion and comrade in arms. “I want to kiss you and I want you to stay, but I won’t take what’s not mine and I won’t force you to do anything you don’t want to do, Sif. Just know that I’m glad you came tonight, and that I missed you more than I can say.”

“You’ve always been a beautiful fool,” she said softly, with not a hint of derision in her voice or on her face. She leaned against him so their shoulders touched, then brought her face even closer. “You can’t imagine how long I’ve waited to hear you say _anything_ like that to me.”

He could, actually, even if he hadn’t seen her behave the way he felt before. Not to his recollection, anyway. But they’d known one another for so long, and if he thought hard enough about it, he could imagine just how long she might have felt for him what he was only now feeling for her. “I’m sorry I’ve been making you wait so long, my Lady,” he said, still waiting for her direct consent. It was important to him that she wanted _Thor_ , her friend, to kiss her.

When she did, his heart nearly gave out and quit all together. “Stop apologizing. You’re torturing the both of us,” she told him, and then she connected their lips herself.

Thor’s only thought was that he loved the feel of her soft lips against his. He loved the weight of her shoulder pressing into his, and the fact that their hands were still intertwined. And he absolutely loved that she felt like home and smelled like lemons. He knew she was right; he was a fool, and he had been for so long, pretending that this wasn’t inevitable. He pulled back only to ask her, “Will you stay, Sif? For Asgard, for me, and for us?”

Her smile returned. “Of course,” she said, gripping his hand between both of hers. “Of course.”


	2. A Surprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sif knows just the right ways to make Thor relax. After all, she's one of his oldest friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted @ occasionalfics.tumblr.com in April 2018

They weren’t very good at hiding, though to be fair, it wasn’t like either of them were necessarily trying to hide. But Thor and Sif agreed, after the homecoming party, that they should keep whatever they explored together between the two of them, at least for a little while. It was better that way, with Asgard still being settled. Everything was hectic, and Thor spent a lot of time with Stark and Rhodey at the nation’s Capitol building, rallying for more comprehensive immigration legislation - and yes, he used the fact that he’d saved Earth from destruction more than once to benefit his people. He did hope it would also benefit the absolutely dreadful immigration laws already in place.

Eventually, after a long while of discussion and debate, Asgard was granted asylum on the grounds that the Avengers were, essentially, responsible for his people. Since he was an Avenger, Stark didn’t have that much to complain about. It was all a complicated mess, even after they left Washington, but it was better than nothing. Thor was allowed to remain King and Protector of the Realm, but he had to be careful. If his people stepped “out of line,” as General Ross had put it, he would be the one to answer for their actions. He assured General Ross that Asgardians were peaceful (now), humbled refugees simply seeking a better life than being forced to wander the Galaxy for Eternity.

Tony kept saying this judgment complicated things for the government, but Thor cared very little for petty Midgardian politics. He had trouble understanding why one planet had so many different forms of government, and why those governments were all separated geographically, but he knew Midgardians had a high opinion of themselves, as if they existed in the center of the universe (well, _some_ Midgardians, anyway).

All that mattered to him and Sif was that the Asgardians were safe and protected. They adapted quickly to Midgardian fashion and society, and most remained within a few miles of the new Avengers compound.

When everything finally felt like it was taken care of, for the most part, he felt like he could breathe again. It’d been too long since he’d felt the comforting feeling of weight being lifted from his shoulders, and it was doubly sweet because Sif offered to relax the tension in his back herself. When he protested, saying she wasn’t his maid, she told him to hush, then smiled as she requested he forgive her for being so brash with her sovereign.

“I keep telling you, we’ve been friends for over a millennia,” he mumbled as he leaned his elbows on his knees, sitting on the edge of his bed.

Sif situated behind him on the mattress, working her hardened knuckles into his skin in little circles. “You’re just lucky I was brought up at court,” she teased. “I know when to speak freely with you and when to stand at your side as a silent soldier.”

“You’ve never, ever, once in your life been a _silent_ soldier,” he said right back, allowing a smirk to form on his face.

She dug too hard into his spine, just enough to make him flinch before she chuckled at him. “Maybe so,” she said, suddenly close to his right ear. Her long, dark hair fell over him in gentle waves, surrounding him in the scent of his own body wash and a second, more subtle scent of lemons. She somehow always managed to smell like lemons, and he loved it. “But don’t pretend that keeping this between us hasn’t been…interesting, to say the least.”

He nodded, a pleasant warmth spreading through him as she backed away and continued to work on the hard knots below his shoulder blades. “You mean it doesn’t instill a sense of youth and rebelliousness?” he asked, a hint of playful sarcasm lining his words.

“Don’t be a brat,” she warned, pushing her thumbs deep into the center of his back. As the knot released, he let out a long breath and shut his eye, even as she moved onto the next spot. “You know I’m not overly fond of lying to our people.”

“We’re not lying,” he mumbled. “But they’ve had a lot to deal with over the last few months. I just wanted to give them time to focus on rebuilding their lives before we bombarded them with news of our personal lives.”

Her hands stilled against him. “You say that as if our _personal lives_ will cause a scandal, Thor,” she said in a low voice, letting him know he was dangerously close to insulting her.

Since returning to New York, they hadn’t had the chance to discuss when they would step out together in front of the Asgardian masses. Thor wanted a moment to breathe before he made any decisions at all, and he’d hoped Sif would understand enough to grant him that. Still, he knew she wasn’t asking him to march out to them now and profess his unconditional love for her or anything. He knew what she wanted: honesty, compassion, and to not feel as if they were sneaking around because he was her King and she was his military General. Or one of them, because she and Hilde had agreed to share the responsibility.

When she continued to sit still behind him, he took a deep breath and turned to face her. “You know I don’t care if it does,” he whispered to her.

She’d taken to wearing Midgardian attire like the rest of them. He didn’t take her for a floral pattern kind of person, and yet she wore a dainty red and pink shirt with flowers embroidered into the pocket on the front. She also had on what Natasha had told him were called “jean shorts” because she’d decided she liked showing off her long, lean legs - and who was he to complain? Sif was beautiful no matter what she wore. He considered himself lucky he’d finally realized it.

“Then why are we still sneaking around?” she asked, her face serious.

He took a second, then shrugged because he had no good answer other than _I’m tired and want to sleep for a week before I see any other human being, Midgardian or Asgardian, besides you_. Instead, he offered her, “We don’t have to. Not anymore.”

That seemed to be good enough, because she sighed and nodded. “Very well,” she whispered, her eyes falling to the light freckles and uneven scars that dotted his shoulder. Sif traced along the scars with the pads of her fingers, rubbing gently for some form of contact, it seemed.

“Sif,” he called, trying to get her attention on his eye again. She didn’t look up, but he went on anyway. “You know I’m not ashamed to be with you, right?” He put a warm hand on one of her knees as a reassuring gesture. “I never meant to make you feel that I was, if I did.”

She shook her head. “I know,” she responded.

He leaned toward her and left a kiss at the edge of her lips. “Good. Because I’m not ashamed. I’m…happy, actually. For once,” he said, taking a pause to appreciate her palm moving to flatten against the back of his neck. “And grateful that you stayed, even when I had to leave.”

“Asgard needed its Generals,” she replied softly. “And besides, the last time I walked away while you were galavanting elsewhere, Ragnarok happened.” She finally met his eye again as her lips turned up into her own form of a smirk. One of her dark eyebrows rose into a point, but before he could make a retort, she pulled him to her by the base of his neck.

He was surprised at how little her teasing actually hurt. He often found that he was still rather sensitive about Ragnarok - about losing his home, his family’s dark and complicated legacy, and his eye all in a matter of moments. But when Sif poked fun at him, it was always about her absence, not his shortcomings. She never blamed him for what happened, only meant to remind him that he was strong, but stronger with allies and friends at the ready. And it was that thought that allowed him to smile into the kiss and move his hand up from her knee to where her jeans met her thigh.

She pulled back slightly to ask him, “How does your back feel?”

“Much better, thank you,” he answered. He expected her to say something calming and continue kissing him. He did not expect to be nearly tossed across his bed, and yet, that’s just about what happened. Sif moved so quickly he wasn’t sure exactly what she’d done, but in any case, she had him on his back against the mattress before she settled between his thighs.

“I know you’re not fond of hiding the truth,” he said, chuckling between words, “but must you make a show in its stead?”

Her smirk turned devilish in a way he couldn’t say he’d ever seen before. Maybe something close once, long ago, but not like this. As she leaned down over him, the neck of her shirt fell off one shoulder. She didn’t seem to notice at all. “Maybe so,” she said again, putting her hands on each side of his face so she could bring him back to her.

Her body warmed under his touch as his hands snaked around her waist. He pushed her shirt up enough to make skin-to-skin contact, but that wasn’t enough for her. Her kisses moved from his lips to his jaw and down his neck before she pulled back and wriggled her way out of the shirt. He’d nearly forgotten that she’d told him weeks ago she wasn’t too fond of Midgardian bras, and that if she didn’t have to be wearing one, she wouldn’t. But her breasts falling against his chest certainly reminded him.

Sif’s lips left marks all over his chest as she slid back. Thor watched and felt his muscles stiffen as she licked circles below his navel. She’d learned early that he liked that especially - if he was in a patient, teasing mood, that was. And he appeared to be so, because his only other reaction was to reach down and push her hair to one side so he might see her face while she undid the button and zipper of his pants.

She sat up to remove his pants, but he was focused on the display of her body. He was amazed at how long it had taken him to realize he had feelings for Sif. Or maybe it had just taken that long for feelings to develop. But since the homecoming, since they became a couple instead of a pair of friends, Thor had the recurring thought that he’d been missing out. When he saw her like this, mostly bare and devoted to his pleasure, he couldn’t believe how long he’d made her wait by simply overlooking his own emotions.

All semblance of regret melted away when she pulled on the waistband of his briefs. She had the garment off in one fell swoop, then she laughed darkly as his thick, mostly hard member sprung against his hips. She tormented him by dragging her fingers in little lines down along his sensitive skin until she reached his base. His head flung back as his breathing hitched. He felt her hot mouth take his head, then her tongue graze the skin under the hood. He couldn’t even force himself to form her name; the noises coming from him were nothing more than garbled groans and heavy breaths.

When she hummed around him, he nearly lost it. She’d barely touched him, but he was already starting to come undone; very few people, in all his life, had been able to affect him this way. He tried to focus on how good she felt sinking further and further onto him, but that only pulled him closer to his breaking point. How she managed, _now_ , after knowing him for more than ten Midgardian lifetimes, to work him so well, he couldn’t say. He didn’t really want to, either.

“Sif,” he called, his voice hoarse and strained.

She paused and glanced at him, her mouth stretched wide halfway down his length.

“I need to be inside of you,” he whispered desperately, panting in a _very_ un-King-like manner. He sounded pathetic, though not in a pitiable way. Really, he sounded like a man desperate for release.

In any case, Sif complied. She slowly released him, her lips slipping off of him with a loud pop. She hurried to rid herself of her shorts and underwear before crawling over him, her knees resting beside his hips. “I must say,” she said, her voice as dark as her eyes, “I quite like you begging for me.” She brought her lips down to his, then pulled him back with her, pausing only when his cock gently grazed her hot, wet folds. She ground down on him once, eliciting a long, loud whine against their kiss. Then she reached down, lined him up with her entrance, and dropped onto him with abandon.

If he could form words, he would agree with her. As much as he enjoyed being dominant in certain situations, Thor quite liked letting Sif take charge too. She was gentle and playful, but still commanding and teasing. She was totally unlike how he knew her as his companion, and he loved that he was still uncovering different versions of her person after all this time.

It didn’t hurt that she felt _perfect_ around him. She set a fast pace, rocking her hips in time with him, attacking his neck and jaw with kisses and licks and sucking. If he had any hesitation whatsoever about telling the Asgardian people that they were courting one another, he’d have to get over it quickly. There was no question he’d be bruised and discolored just long enough for them to notice. He at least had the sense to keep his fingers tight around her hips, so no one would make a comment to her about _their_ escapades.

Almost too quickly, he felt her begin to clench around him. They moaned one another’s names when they weren’t occupied with marking one another. Before long, he was holding his breath in long bouts, trying to keep his release from coming too quickly. He brought a hand to her clit and stroked back and forth, earning loud pants from her as he brought her up to speed with him. Thor forced his eye to stay open, even as his lid fought to close, while her walls closed in on him, again and again. Her grinding became erratic as she came, and his followed soon after. He knew if she didn’t want him coming inside her, she’d say something; when she didn’t, he stilled where he was and spilled himself into her.

When her muscles relaxed, Sif fell forward, knocking Thor back against the bed again. She stretched her legs out around his and groaned, but still relaxed against him as his arms wrapped around her. He was exhausted, his muscles sore but not as they had been when all of this had started. This was a pleasant ache from overuse rather than extension and stress. This was a feeling he was used to, but now it was lined with the faint smell of lemons.

He truly felt he’d been a fool all his life for not seeing that Sif had been right before him the whole time.


End file.
